The Sound of Silence
by Winged-Wolf13
Summary: "I'm a Kleptomaniac. I steal things. Usually, I don't even realize I'm doing it. I'll just be walking past someone and before I know it, their wallet is in my hand." For his thievery, Zexion is placed under house arrest; only, it isn't his house. LexZex
1. Stab of Neon

I like new stories as they're very exciting. -Hides- I know I have others to work on, but I get an idea and I can't help but write it instead... Anyway, this is going to be an attempt at, well, something. Probably me trying to work on dialogue, because my stories are very shallow when it comes to conversations. Also romance, because I can't really do that either. And yes, this will be interesting. So just uh, stick with me. Give me a critique or two. I probably sound like a moron sometimes, haha.

**Pairings:** LexZex, DemZex

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Kingdom Hearts.

**Warnings:** This story is going to be YAOI. In this chapter there isn't much to be concerned over violence/swearing/sexual contest wise.

EDITED: 8/16/2011 : And man oh man, this needs a lot of work.

* * *

The uneven path did nothing to hinder his defeated footsteps, the steady '_tap tap tap_' of heel and leather pounding ever onward. Though with every step a jolt of white hot pain snaked up his shin, rattling his kneecaps, matching the chatter of nervous teeth. To any onlooker it would have been deduced his teeth shivered due to the cold.

But in this particular instance, such was not the case.

Light from a towering street lamp spilled over his lilac hair, washing over a high forehead, shallow cheeks and a single aqua eye. He shied away from it, head tilting to cover as much of his face as possible with a sheaf of too-long bangs.

Deft fingers pulled back sleeves, rolling them to the elbow, unfolding a collar and pulling it close to a delicate jaw bone. A face like his was not to be seen. Especially, _especially_, tonight.

He continued walking, seemingly unhurried, hands tucking themselves into wool-lined pockets. But his heart pounded against his ribcage like a bird at the bars of its cage; frightened, desperate for repose.

He'd finally done it. He'd _finally_ done it.

So maybe it had nearly cost him his knees, so possibly it could have cost him his freedom, but the temptation had been overwhelming, a sudden and insistent need that could _not_ be ignored. A rythmic crooning at the back of his skull that refused to be silenced.

In other words, his mania had finally gotten the best of him.

A particularly foul part of the cobblestone twisted under him, nearly bringing him to his knees as he stumbled forward. The pain in his right knee outweighed the numbing ache in his left, and that simple thing alone gave him the strength to stand back up, to keep walking down the path with its dastardly potholes and its garish light posts.

He'd be home soon, and then he could curl up with his prize and sleep; sleep until the sun shouted through his curtains and the stifling heat of a room closed to the world became too much to bare.

Said prize was heavy against his side, tucked into a handmade pocket on the inside of his wool hide coat. The tails on said garment tapped the back of his thighs with every step he took; heavy, insistent, telling him that he wasn't walking quite fast enough.

But this was his limit, this casual pace beginning to falter as his knees began to creak.

The glass. The glass was in his knees. He had to get it out, but he couldn't stop here, couldn't stomach pausing for a much needed breath only to find that he could not get up again.

A sound in the distance caught his attention, but it was gone before his mind could register exactly what it was.

Clouds danced between his lips, mingling in the air for a heartbeat before dissipating. He _was_ cold now, which only served to make his teeth clack harder.

The sound again... closer this time, a definite and shrill noise. The sound of silence breaking, shattering like a time-worn mirror into glittery dust.

Sirens.

He breathed a single word, a curse, and stopped.

Police sirens cut through the night, illuminating the sky in a harsh pattern of reds and blues and yellows.

The inner pocket of his coat became hot to the touch, seeping through his thin shirt, searing his skin.

The pain in his knees, the evidence of a crime turned messy, kept him rooted to his spot as the sirens in the distance grew from a pinprick in the night to a neon lantern that stabbed his eyes.

Even if he tried to run, he knew he wouldn't get far enough before they found him. It hurt to realize this, hurt to know that all of it had been in vain. Yet even so, he knew he couldn't just _stand_ there. He had to try, had to _attempt_ escape.

The path he stood on was stenciled with stone, lined with light posts and high power lines, followed up by dinky little houses; each looking just the same as the last, dingy, yellowed, some caving slightly in the roof. He knew that beyond them he would find a forest, but to get there in time he'd have to run, and _fast_.

He took a tentative step to the side, urging his brain to give in to instinct, and then bashing his instinct into submission as it too tried to keep him on the path. It was against everything he'd ever known, this rebellion that would surely be his greatest – no, his second greatest – crime.

The item in his coat was his first crime. The finale of a thousand others that seemed completely irrelevant to this one.

He was a kleptomaniac after all; his compulsion forcing him to nick things from socks to silverware to watches. Further still to electronics, clothes, and now, finally, books.

But not just any book.

He'd stolen the greatest document that this town had to offer. That _any_ town had to offer, really.

And now the sirens were chasing him.

The glass in his knees was a sharp and brutal pain, and only three steps from the path he was already panting in despair. The trees standing just beyond the trailers to his right taunted him, waving hello as he fell against a lamp post. He couldn't make it, _couldn't_.

The sirens in his ears made his heart race, his pulse spiking as a lump formed in his throat.

Why... why had he thought this would work? How could he even think, for the fraction of a second...

No, no he'd gone through too much, he'd waited so _long_.

It was a strange thing that he did next, his eyes slipping closed as he lurched into a loping run. The pain in his legs shone like a beacon behind his eyelids. He ignored it. Ignored everything around him as he ran blindly for the trees. He was an animal, a creature, a beast set forth into a world to wreak havoc and blind destruction.

Escape was in his grasp, freedom tasted sweet on his tongue.

He failed to notice that the sirens had stopped, and as he let his eyes flutter open, he realized that the trees were just within his reach.

He extended his hand, fingers reaching for bark and the sticky sap needles he'd always detested, the sound of silence pressing against his ears, deafening him.

And quite suddenly, as if from nowhere and yet everywhere at once, pain was ricocheting against his spine and the ground was rising up to meet him in a hearty hello. Before he'd had time to blink his nose was in the dirt, his hair falling askew as he twisted and writhed.

"Let me go, let me go, let me go!" He cried, desperate for the trees and his home and the book laying quietly in his coat, burning like a scarlet letter that alerted all to his crime.

The silence broke and he flinched at the venomous voice shouting in his ear for him to stop screaming, threatening to hurt him if he didn't stop _goddamn squirming_.

And then, most vividly, "Why are you even trying? You _can't_ get away!"

With those words he twisted again, letting forth a feral growl that warped into nothing short of a battle cry.

With a strength he didn't know he had, he scrambled out of his pursuers grasp, screaming at the top of his lungs. All the while scratching and biting and punching at anything he could reach. The shards in his knee met resistance, tearing through his pant leg and into the flesh of the stranger. A grunt, male and heavy, sounded in his ear, then quieted as he put as much distance between himself and the man as possible.

Overhanging twigs and leaves and briars snatched at his face, but he paid them little mind. His entire body felt numb, lifeless, and there was no pain as he stumbled into the forest. There was only freedom, and the pressure of his feet flying against the earth.

A creek appeared beneath him, reaching up with cold fingers to soak him to the bone. His entire body shuddered, but he kept running, because behind him he could hear not just the man that had tackled him, but the heavy footfalls of many others, screams of protest echoing in the night.

But they wouldn't catch him again. Or so he hoped.

His coat snagged on a bramble patch, and like a wild animal he twisted out of the plant, wrenching away despite the blooming pain in his cheek as the branches snapped back to slap him.

Adrenaline coursed through his veins, aiding him in his escape, working through the crunching glass in his knees.

Despite it all, he couldn't make himself regret stealing the book in his pocket.

As his instinct kicked in and the animal-like need to flee took over completely, he let his mind wander, let his feet carry him through the pain. The shouts behind him were meaningless, all that mattered was that he was less than a minute from breaking through the other side of the forest, and when that happened, he would be home free.

Or, well, that was the plan.

What he hadn't planned, however, was the figure crouching in the shadows, the man whose cleverness outweighed his own. A man whose intelligence, at least in the moment, was greater.

Like a cat pouncing for a mouse, the man threw himself from the underbrush, easily overpowering him and taking them both to the ground. He snarled, nearly foaming at the mouth as the man flipped him over, straddled his hips, snapped cold weights across his wrists.

Cuffs. He'd just been cuffed.

_'no no no this isn't happening no so close i was so _close_!'_

His thoughts, almost like a furious mantra, aided him in no way as the man atop him laughed breathlessly and patted his lilac hair almost tenderly.

"Slippery one, aren't you?" Was all they said, and while he continued to writhe against the dirt, mucking up his clothes and face, he was reminded of the book in his pocket and stilled. He wouldn't ruin his treasure as well.

There were words being spoken to him, questions perhaps, but there was no inclination to answer. He simply lay there, dumbfounded, senses reeling as he finally, finally realized that he'd been _truly_ caught this time. The metal cast about his wrists stung like ice, feeling like a thousand pounds holding him down.

Another question, one he was capable of discerning despite the haze, "What's your name, kid?" and this time he _did_ answer, if only because he'd nearly forgotten it himself, nearly lost everything in his blind flight.

"Zexion." He whispered, rolling the word around in his mouth, testing it on his tongue. Yes, that was his name. "I'm Zexion."

"Interesting name." The man grunted, but Zexion ignored it in favor of listening to the static voice of a hand held radio, one that the man astride him took into his hands and spoke many strange words.

When he was done, the man stood, hands firmly grasping the link between Zexion's wrists. He pulled the thief to his feet, steadied him when the boy swayed, and then asked him if he was feeling quite alright.

"You look pale."

"Indeed. I suppose anyone who had been through what I have _would_ be a bit flushed. Enough with the small talk, arrest me while you can, lest I manage to escape once more."

The man made a noise in the back of his throat, something resembling an annoyed huff. After that neither spoke, and when the other men arrived, flashlights in hand and expressions gruff, Zexion let himself fall against the man that had taken his freedom and crushed it in the palm of his hands.

As they hauled him away, telling him things he was too occupied to pay attention to, the feeling returned to his body, filtering in like a steady waterfall. And like the cartoons he'd watched as a child, he assumed his color simply drained away. Or, at least, what was left of it. His knees buckled.

Zexion screamed.

* * *

When next he awoke, Zexion refused to open his eyes. Refused to realize that when he did, the dingy old quilt an ex lover had bought for him would not be tucked around him, that the red and black curtains he'd made himself would not be drawn across a window with an unusually high arch. He was frightened that he would find himself in the corner of a dingy jail cell, wrists tucked together, mouth gagged, body trussed up like a Christmas hen.

The smell of anesthetic was strong in his nose, though. The scent of pure and true cleanliness, a pristine aroma that could only mark the white-washed walls of a hospital.

Aqua eyes creaking open, hindered by the dust of a sleeping soul, Zexion was primarily blinded by the harsh fluorescent lights overhead. Lights that, once adjusted to, gave him an immediate migraine. Zexion groaned and rolled onto his side, but stopped when a flash of pain wound through him.

The glass, he'd forgotten all about the glass.

But as he struggled to prop himself on his elbows, lifted the thin sheets away (noting the fact that his clothes had been discarded in favor of a trademark hospital gown) and found that his knees were heavily bandaged, found that when he pressed very, very lightly at one that there was no crunching glitter beneath, he sighed.

They'd fixed him up.

Weird.

Zexion wanted to stand and leave, perhaps even climb through the window and scale the building itself to escape, but he knew he couldn't. Because, even with the glass gone, his legs still ached, and just thinking about getting up and walking away made tears sting his eyes.

Sighing, he laid back down, drawing the sheets to his neck. The pillow beneath him was thin and offered little support, but he found himself drifting off regardless.

And perhaps he might have slept for days on end if a bustling nurse hadn't ambled in and shook him awake.

"You have a visitor." She said stiffly, and before he'd had time to wipe his eyes and lick the dried spittle from the corner of his lip she was gone. In her place was a finely dressed man, tall, firm, and handsome. His unruly chestnut hair springing up as he removed his hat, head tipping his way. Zexion watched as the nurse hustled past him, noting how, even as the man tipped his head at her as well, he didn't turn to watch her leave.

So he was either a gentleman, or, well, just uninterested.

When his eyes landed on Zexion, however, all traces of kindness left him, and the boy shrunk into the covers. Regretfully, it didn't keep him from glaring.

"I'm here to ask you a few questions." The man said, yanking one of those horribly uncomfortable hospital chairs from its position in the corner, setting it instead at Zexion's bedside. The lilac-haired boy recognized that voice, and with the recognition came a shudder of fear. A shiver of submission. This man had taken his liberty. But instead of showing just how afraid he was, Zexion calmed himself, kept his poker face as firm as possible.

"That seems to be all you've done so far. Asking me questions."

"So you remember our previous encounter, I take it?"

"To an extent." Zexion said with a sigh, raising his hand to inspect nails that were dirtied with tree bark and soil. He grimaced.

"Tell me all that you can remember then."

"And why should I do that?" He found himself asking. "I don't even know you. As far as I'm concerned, you're a stranger from the street, overly concerned with poking your nose into business that isn't yours."

Instead of words, Zexion found a hand invading his personal space. "My name is Lexaeus. I work for the Twilight Town Police Department. _I_ am the one who detained you last night. _I_ am the one who suggested you be brought here first. _I_ am the one who is keeping you from going to jail."

Zexion, nearly faltering, swallowed around the knot in his throat. "Out of jail? And how do you plan to do that?"

"Tell me what you remember from last night first. Starting with the beginning."

He huffed, rubbed his temple, then settled into the sheets. Realizing that his migraine would only get worse from here, he ground his teeth and decided that it was only for the best. Anything to keep himself out of trouble, he supposed.

"When I awoke yesterday afternoon, my roommate was gone." He began, not really sure if he should divulge any names. He decided that his roommates name was irrelevant anyway, and continued with, "I don't typically sleep in that long, but lately I've been having a bit of a... problem. A nagging, so to say, at the back of my mind." Zexion paused to see if Lexaeus was paying attention, and when he found the supposed officer staring at him like a hawk, he sighed.

"I suppose first I should let you know that I'm a Kleptomaniac. I _steal_ things, and usually I don't even realize I'm doing it. I'll just be walking past someone and before I know it their wallet is in my hand and there's nothing I can do but return it with an embarrassed smile. But when I say I don't realize I'm doing it, I only mean _most_ of the time."

"Sometimes... I think of something I'd like to have. _Sometimes_, someone plants the idea in my head _for_ me, and after that, well, I can't forget it. The item presses on my mind constantly, day in and day out, over breakfast and in showers and even when I'm taking notes in lectures. I go insane over it, can't begin to think straight."

He thought of the itch he'd begun to feel, how he'd sweat and sweat over the book, something of which he'd heard of from a friend. A book that held the towns history in it, a book signed by the mayor of Twilight Town himself. One that held secrets no ordinary citizen was allowed to know. Zexion knew he'd had to have it, convinced himself that it was all in the pursuit of knowledge and just gone for it.

A connoisseur of books such as himself would have understood his plight. Memories enfolding him, taking him back, he began to speak; all the while Lexaeus sat, staring, enraptured by the creature of involuntary disease on the hospital bed before him.

_He'd stood there outside Twilight Town's central hall, debating whether or not he should go in. It was madness after all, all of it madness. His disease was getting the better of him and he knew it, but at this point it didn't matter._

_The book was right in front of him, just waiting, waiting for him, Zexion._

_His fingers itched at his side._

_So he'd snuck around the back, sticking to the shadows as best as possible. The guards around the building could not see him, partially due to his small stature, partially due to the fact that Zexion did not _want_ to be seen. And when he did not want to be seen, he usually wasn't. _

At this, a flush spread across Zexion's cheeks, "Well, I guess that's no longer the case now though, is it?"

Lexaeus allowed himself a small smile, hand gesturing, "I assume not. Now, continue if you please?"

_Ivy grew thick on the back of the building, a part of the ivory monument never seen by the public view. It was shrouded by trees, one of which he scaled, and then leaped, squirrel-like, to the ivy covered building. He'd slid a few feet downwards, an act that scared him to the very center of his being._

_It was a long fall, after all. One he did not think he'd survive. _

_But he made it to the top of the building, found a window cast open to welcome in the breeze, and squeezed through. The guard in the room lay against the wall, a gentle snore passing from his lips as Zexion tip-toed past. _

_It was too easy, it was all too easy._

_When he'd left the room he'd found a corridor trimmed with gold and layered with an ivory rug. He'd followed it to the end of the hall to an ornate door, one which could only house something of great importance. _

_There were no guards. Zexion eased the door open, stepped inside, closed the door behind him and froze._

_The book sat on a pedestal only a few feet before him. A light shone down on it, illuminating the books silver-lined cover. The pages poked through the side cover, dog-eared and worn. It was a book well loved, well read, and Zexion wanted nothing more than to join the masses of people who had had the opportunity to indulge themselves in its delicate script._

_So he'd stolen it, filched the book right from the pedestal and run from the room. What amazed him the most was that this couldn't be _real_, that this thievery had been so incredibly easy. Easier than anything else he'd ever stolen, be it gum or a five dollar bill. Almost laughing, almost feeling ridiculous, Zexion's spirits rose, and he allowed himself to be overcome with ego enough for ten people. And it was this cockiness that led him back to the room he'd snuck in from, and the swelling ego he was now sporting made him trip and fall, right into a drop-leaf table that clattered anxiously under his weight. The vase and various decor atop it rattled on delicately spun bottoms, and to Zexion's horror fell to the floor with a crash. _

_Needless to say, the guard had awoken, shouted for backup, and then proceeded to chase him all about the room._

"I never ran so fast in my life." Zexion said, coming back from his reverie. "I didn't want to be caught. Especially not since the book was _right in my hands_."

Lexaeus nodded, grunted again for him to continue. Zexion noted the small notepad in his hand and scoffed at just how cliché it all was.

_The window was still open, tempting him as he darted about the room, trying to shake the guard and his pistol that he was toting now with an angry expression. Threats to shoot whizzed past him faster than the already flying bullets themselves, and Zexion didn't even hesitate at the window sill. _

_He threw himself right out of it, barely dodging a bullet that was aimed for his skull. It broke the glass above his head, the glass in the window pulled open for breezes and thieves._

_He'd fallen straight to the ground, the book hugged tightly to his chest. The earth had risen up to meet him, burned the soles of his shoes when he landed. The glass fell after him, pattering the ground in a flurry of diamond dust. He'd lurched on his feet, unsteady, and fallen to his knees, impaling them on the glass laying haphazardly on the concrete and dirt. With an agonizing yowl, Zexion had fled the scene, the buzzers and alarms shouting after him not even giving him pause. _

_He didn't look back._

"I thought I was going to get off scott free." He admitted. "I had the book and the sun was going down. I thought that I'd be able to read it all that night, and then maybe return it before dawn. I mean, I may be a thief, and I may be sick, but I fully intended to bring it back." Turning icy aqua eyes to the cop at his side, Zexion finished with a, "But you ruined that plan."

"A pleasure." Lexaeus grumbled. The two sat in silence as the man finished what he'd been writing. Placing the pen to his chin, which Zexion had admired only moments before, the man said, "So you were just walking home when we caught you, correct?"

"Precisely."

"Alright, so just to clarify... you're a Kleptomaniac, which I understand borders on a notion of OCD. Therefore, you're compelled to steal things of varying values, and this led you to filch the Lexicon of this town. You had no ill intent, but all the same you've been detained and are, at this moment, the perpetrator of a crime. I also find it, admittedly, a bit funny that you planned on returning it. As if this whole scheme was just a menial library visit."

"A crime you said you could get me out of." Zexion reminded him, ignoring the other comments. "But yes, otherwise, you are correct."

"I see..." Raising his eyes, Lexaeus pinned Zexion to the spot. The boy could do nothing but stare back blankly, all the fight draining out of him. His head ached but he ignored it. Lexaeus, even as the abysmal man that had stolen Zexion's peace, freedom, and near sanity, was, as he stared so intently, quite handsome.

Immediately his mind quashed the thought. Of all the things to be thinking of at a time like this... he resisted the urge to shake his head free of such thoughts and focused instead on those dark, narrow eyes.

"I'm going to go speak with a few people. For the time being, you try to rest." And then he stood, towering over Zexion as he scooted the chair back to its original position. Zexion watched him take three steps before letting out a noise of indignation.

"Wait, that's it? You come in here and make me spill my guts, my story, my secrets, then just _leave_? What are you up to? Who _are_ you? Why do you think you can get me out of trouble for a crime that Twilight Town apparently deems a serious offense?"

"I already told you who I am." Lexaeus said gently. He was tucking away the notebook and his pen, his hat once again taking residence upon his head to hide that springy chestnut hair from sight. "I have a friend somewhat like you. He's not a Klepto, no, but a Pyromaniac. I've had to get him out of trouble quite a few times, and now that I understand what your predicament is, well..." He paused, buttoned the top two buttons of his coat. "Things like this really aren't that uncommon, and I want to help you, Zexion. Will you let me?"

He watched and waited as the boy lay back in his bed, eyes thoughtful. None of this made sense to the lilac-haired boy at the moment, but he was hardly complaining. It was all so strange, though. Everything was so... so _strange_. His Kleptomania had only grown worse in the past few years, but until now he'd never been in quite so much trouble. He'd stolen something very important now, not just his roommates socks or his ex's old gameboy. Perhaps, he thought, it was time to get help.

But only because next time Lexaeus might not be the one to tackle him out in the middle of nowhere; he wouldn't be the one pressing his hips down into the dirt and shoving his nose to the ground in submission.

"You can trust me." Lexaeus added as an afterthought. But the last thing on Zexion's mind was trust.

"Do whatever it is you feel you need to do. I don't exactly want to spend my time in jail, nor do I feel like going to some sort of rehabilitation for my... well, you know. But I need help." He scratched at his cheek, realized his hair had been tucked back behind his ear, and quickly repositioned it over the right side of his face. "I'll let you help me. But if you fail I'll never forgive you for getting my hopes up. And remember, I'm an expert when it comes to looting. If my jail cell has a keyhole, I _will_ acquire a key and escape. You'll never see me again."

"In other words, you don't really need my help. But you'd prefer it."

"It'd be less troublesome, to say the least. But I find your choice of words a bit poor." Zexion grinned, and with his tone was the sound of finality. He was tired of speaking, his eyelids drooping dangerously low. Lexaeus watched him for another moment, then nodded.

"I'll be back." He said, and then he was gone.

With the room to himself and nothing to do, Zexion let himself relax, huddled under the covers to hide the stupid garment he was being forced to wear. His thoughts were muddled, his hopes high, but he tried not to let his imagination run too wild. Things were serious now, and very different, so at the very least he had to at least try to keep some semblance of dignity.

Yawning, he let his eyes fall closed and grimaced only briefly at the headache burning behind his eyes.

But as Zexion fell to the dark clutches of sleep, he was completely unaware of the inexplicable knot that had just bound his destiny to the mysterious officers.


	2. Trust

**Pairings:** LexZex, DemZex

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Kingdom Hearts.

**Warnings:** Insinuated yaoi. Mild language. Violence.

Edited: 8/21/2011

* * *

Demyx, his roommate, was there when he awoke.

The man held a sleek silver plaque in his hands, expression one of boredom. Zexion assumed that the faded square on the wall across from him was where the plaque had once resided, and Demyx, in his curiosity, could not resist taking it down. The blond had a way of musing aloud, and even as he thought it, Demyx began to grumble,"I don't care how many credentials this Vexen guy has, he looks like a pedophile..." Zexion couldn't help but chuckle.

"You say that about every doctor you come across. And dentists, as well. Actually, you say that about everyone."

"I can't help that people have strange tastes, Zexion. I can only point it out and shudder to think that maybe, just maybe, I too will someday accommodate an incredibly disturbing fetish."

Zexion chuckled, head shaking slightly, then settled into silence, tongue heavy in his mouth as he wriggled further into his bed. Demyx was just as quiet, hands on his hips as he looked at everything _but_ the slate-haired teenager, and Zexion couldn't help but wonder why he'd come to see him in the first place if he was going to act this way. He assumed the blond was there to fuss over him as he usually did, what with his rambunctious personality and his need to make everyone in the immediate area smile. But today the man seemed despondent, as if something that had been plaguing his mind for quite a while had finally bubbled to the surface and refused to bob back down.

When a nurse came in to drop off a small plastic cup and two pills, Demyx ran his hands through his hair, face pale as the lilac-haired teen downed the meds and the water, then thanked the nurse. The moment she was out the door, Demyx cleared his throat, scratching the tip of his nose idly.

"So... I heard about what you did... yesterday, you know?"

"Word travels fast in small towns."

It was safe to say that he was _definitely _unsurprised. He'd known it would get out, that his condition would be made known and all the residents of Twilight Town would begin to pat their pockets as he walked by. To clutch purses and bags alike closer, assuring the contents stayed safely intact.

Demyx hummed a low note in his throat, lips forming words, but Zexion spoke first.

"Listen, if you're here tell me off, or to give me some bullshit about how I should've told you about my... my _condition, _then forget it. I couldn't and wouldn't tell you even if you wanted me to."

"I'm not here for that." Demyx mumbled, looking strangely defeated, and perhaps even a little embarrassed. Zexion eyes narrowed coolly.

"Then what exactly _are_ you here for? As far as I know I'm not even supposed to _have_ visitors. What is it you want, Demyx? What's so important to you that you come here not twenty-four hours after my assault?"

"I'm revoking my invitation."

The temperature in the room dropped a few degrees; subconsciously, Zexion pulled his thin sheets closer, face carefully neutral.

"Revoking your invitation? To your... to your house, I take it?"

"Yes."

"_Why_?" Zexion growled, utterly confused and hurt that his roommate, his best friend, would even consider it. He thought that people were supposed to be supporting, comforting, in times like this, but no, this was all wrong, this was -

Blood pressure rising, pulse ascending, Zexion clenched his hands into tiny little fists, fully aware that Demyx knew exactly how much this was affecting him. The incessant beeping from the monitor beside his bed was condeming him quite effectively, and Demyx took note of it with the slightest glance, resolve firm and unyiedling.

"Listen Zexion, I'm _sorry_, but I can't have some... some... _thief_... holing up in my house! I mean, I can't house a guy that's going to go out and steal a bunch of shit, then come running home with a bunch of cops on his ass! And that's exactly what you were planning on doing last night, don't you even deny it, Zexion!"

"Demyx, listen to yourself!" Zexion pleaded, his sanity waning, anger rising; this was his friend he was speaking to, his friend who was accusing him in such a way that made him sound far worse than he actually was. "It's not like I'm out stealing people's hearts or bars of gold! Little things, Demyx, little things! Utensils left on trays, maybe a book of two from the library, a newspaper from the general store, but nothing big!"

"Then what was last night, huh?" Demyx nearly shouted. "You stole the very _symbol_ of the _town_! You stole government rank documents! That makes you a _criminal_, Zexion."

"I couldn't help myself, Demyx. I'm a Kleptomaniac, I can't _control_ it!"

"Then you should have _warned_ someone." Demyx murmured, carding a hand through his mussed up hair.

"You should have told _me_."

"I couldn't, Demyx."

His roommate let out a shaky breath, eyes closing in frustration as he fell silent. Zexion took the opportunity to turn the tables in his favor, even if the point he was planning on making was completely unrelated. If it would work...

"You told me you loved me once." He started, and when Demyx let out another shuddering breath, he almost felt guilty for manipulating his friend in such a way. "You loved _me_, and I loved _you_. And back then, that was all we needed."

"That was back in high school, Zexion. We were children."

"It only ended last year. We're not children anymore."

"I've already told you that I can't do it again. I can't deal with your... your..."

"Frigidness. That's the word you used to use, if I remember correctly."

"Exactly." Demyx, who had decided this conversation was a draining and lengthy one, drew a chair from the corner and plopped down in it. As he hunched over, elbows on his knees, hands clasped together, Zexion realized that only a few hours ago it had been Lexaeus' hulking figure occupying that chair.

"Yeah, you're a frigid person, Zexion. And for the two of us there is no future. I've already done so much for you, can't you see that? I promised you friendship despite the fact that I always wanted more, I let you stay with me even after things were broken off, even after_Saïx_and I..." He backtracked, willed the thought away as if it was a very painful one and continued on. "I just can't have you in my house anymore, it's too much for me to handle and that's that."

Zexion's anger spiked. "So this isn't about my condition at all, is it? You just want me gone so you can have _Saïx_ over instead!"

"This has nothing to do with him." Demyx said calmly. "You're a thief and I have no way of telling if you're going to lie about something as big as your condition again or not. So once you get all of... of..." He gestured with his hands at the room they were in and the word he was looking for seemed to fail him. "When you're better and this mess has blown over, come on out and pick up your stuff. I'm sure you can find another guy to bunk with until you find a place."

"What are you insinuating?" Zexion howled, his body shooting up. He reached for Demyx and found his collar, yanked him, wide-eyed, up onto the hospital bed. "I'm not some cheap slut! I can afford a place of my own if I want to, and I don't need anyone's help to do so!"

"Then why are you so worked up over all of this?" Demyx shouted back. His hands were bone white, gripping Zexion's wrists until his too were pale and bloodless. "Get yourself together, get out of my house, and move on with your life because we're _through_!"

A nurse poked her head through the door, obviously attracted by the noise. Her eyes were wide with fear, and when Zexion pulled his hand back, made a fist, and popped Demyx in the eye, she fled from the room, voice echoing down the hall in a call for help.

By the time an orderly and a doctor had made their way back to the fight, Demyx and Zexion had fallen to the floor, the lilac-haired man fisting Demyx's dirty blond hair in his hand as he repeatedly smashed the other teen's face. Demyx, who was shouting obscenities, had his fists aimed at Zexion's hollowed stomach, his legs kicking thin shin bones whenever he could. Zexion was howling as blinding pain washed over him, knees aching agonizingly, but he clung to Demyx regardless, doing as much damage as he could with his blunt fingernails and thin fingers.

They rolled about in the floor, growling like animals, and the doctor, who had nothing on him but a stethoscope and an empty needle, hesitated before jumping into the fray. There was a struggle between the three of them, and at one point they seemed to find him just as much of an enemy as themselves. The orderly was forced to join in as the doctor began to howl in pain, red lines flowing down his cheeks as Zexion scratched him as well. He seized the blond by the calf, yanking him away from the much smaller man in the floor and the furious doctor. The effect was immediate, the blond quieting as he panted for air, and the doctor sighed, hand over his heart as he stood, grasping the edge of the bed for balance.

But the lilac-haired teen on the floor was glaring daggers, voice a raspy growl as he whispered, "Your house is shit anyway. Ever heard of a vacuum, you moron?"

And while the doctor had begun to relax, he was forced to grab hold of the furious blond once more as he threw himself at the teen on the floor, the orderly howling in pain as he held his nose. Blood gushed out from between his fingers, and the doctor couldn't contain the cries for help spewing from his lips.

The nurse was long gone, legs carrying her down the hall as she fled.

The doctor, whose golden name tag flickered in the light, read Dr. Vexen, finally managed to haul Demyx away before he could do any more damage than he'd already done. They were halfway to the door when the man squirmed in his arms, turned his head back towards the tiny creature in the floor and shouted, "Forget all your stuff Zexion! I was even going to be nice and pack it up for you but you can forget that now! I bet the Pawn Shop will love all those books!"

"_No_!" Zexion's voice was filled with anguish, the last dying cry of an animal backed into a corner. A creature with the enemies teeth at its throat. Zexion continued to howl at the retreating pair, tears spilling over his lashes and onto his cheeks. Demyx couldn't, _wouldn't_, get rid of his books. He _knew_ what those meant to him! But he had to make sure, he had to, so he stood, ambled past the orderly in a drunken, painful daze, hands extending for the doctor and his best friend, ex lover, his _roommate_, Demyx.

They were leaving fast though, and the doctor was shaking Demyx by the shoulders, shoving him forward as he said, "Close your mouth, you heathen! Out, out with you, this is a hospital for God's sake!"

They hustled out the door, closing it firmly shut, and Zexion was left to fall before it, cheek sliding down it as he fell to the floor. He cried in pain and terror, fearing for the loss of the only things that made him feel anything anymore. The only things that carried him away, cradled him from the things he feared, from the creatures he hated.

His books. His lifeline.

"_Don't you sell them, Demyx! Don't you sell them! I'll never forgive you if you do_!"

The orderly, hands soaked with blood, dashed to the cabinets in the corner of the room, hands feeling for a key in his scrub pocket. He seized it, nearly dropping it a few times, then shoved it into the keyhole.

Inside was a various array of needles and concoctions, and he reached for them without thinking. The man against the door continued to sob, shoulders straining with the effort. It sounded to the orderly like the sobbing of a madman, and when he'd finally prepared a needle, he darted to the door and wrapped his free arm around the lilac-haired teen's middle, pulling him away from the door and shoving him face first to the tiled floor. The teen struggled, still crying senselessly as he shouted and screamed.

The orderly wasted no time in sticking him with the needle.

Zexion finally went slack, and save for a final, heart-wrenching sob, stayed quiet.

Sighing, the orderly tucked him back into bed and backed up to the door.

He left the room as quickly as possible.

Lexaeus had always known that his friendship with Axel would pay off one day.

Admittedly, the red head was a pure-hearted soul, but annoying as hell, and while it had been a battle every step of the way, today it finally proved worthwhile.

After detaining the startlingly intelligent Zexion last night, Lexaeus had immediately been intrigued by his story.

A Kleptomaniac; it wasn't often you met one. Not a true one, at least.

He'd promised himself he'd help the tiny man, but for what reason and on what principle, he still wasn't sure. He'd told himself over and over that it was only because he'd dealt with Axel for so long; Axel, who was a Pyromaniac to the fullest extent. Axel, who would surely understand Zexion just as much as Lexaeus was trying to as well.

It was this connection and this understanding that had compelled him to help the teen out of the fix he'd drawn himself into.

The book they'd gotten off his figure had been the town's Lexicon, an icon of Twilight Town that spoke of events unknown to the typical civilian, unknown crimes and people and villains...

He himself knew little of it, but it wasn't something someone would want to be caught stealing, that was for sure.

Amazingly enough, though, he'd still managed to get a pardon of sorts for the mysterious Zexion. The polite and _very_ intriguing, Zexion.

So as he'd sat in traffic, engine idling as he waited for the light to turn green, Lexaeus smiled. The pardon had conditions. And somehow he knew, just _knew_, that Zexion wasn't going to like them. But it would give them the opportunity to work together, and somehow Lexaeus knew that something great was to come of it all.

A few hours later he was entering the heavily air conditioned lobby of Twilight Town's one and only hospital, a towering giant amidst all the other buildings here. He ambled over to the counter at the edge of the room, maneuvering his way through aisles of chairs and stools. The nurse looked up at him nervously, asked him his name, then handed him a sheaf of paper.

Forms, and God, how he hated paperwork...

Ten minutes later he was on the 34th floor of the hospital, leather boots echoing on the white-washed walls as he made his way to room 309. Inside he would find Zexion and the esteemed Dr. Vexen, or so he'd been told.

Inside he would relay what the head chief had told him, and furthermore, what the judge he'd visited had decided.

_'304, 305, 306...'_He counted the doors as he passed them, slightly nervous. He wanted to be on good terms with Zexion, and while it was unclear as to why he was so strongly drawn to the man already, he was happy to go along with it.

When room 309 came into view, he stopped before it and listened briefly. Inside came the sound of a steady murmur, a voice all its own that seemed to be musing to itself. Lexaeus straightened his coat, tried to settle his unruly hair and failed, then knocked three times on the door.

"Come in." Came the same voice he'd heard before. He reached for the handle and turned it, poked his head inside.

Zexion lay quiet on the bed, chest rising and falling evenly. His face, Lexaeus noted with disapproval, was scratched and bruised. He couldn't remember it looking that way the day before, and the first words out of his mouth as he stepped into the room was, "What happened to him?"

"Good afternoon to you, too." The doctor grumbled. His pale skin was nearly translucent under the glow of the fluorescent lights, and Lexaeus strained to read the tag on his breast. This man was Dr. Vexen. Lexaeus frowned.

"Afternoon, Dr. Vexen, do pardon my rudeness. Tell me though, what happened to him?"

The doctor sighed, flipping a page on his clipboard as he said almost too casually, "He was in a scuffle with his roommate this morning. A Mr. Demyx something or another, as I was informed. Don't worry about anything. He was quickly... _escorted_... from the premises."

"Not quickly enough by the look of those scratches."

"..."

Lexaeus strode across the room and leaned over the bed, eyes taking in the purple swells on Zexion's cheeks. It was a shame, he thought, that such a thing marred a face so pale and sweetly peaceful.

"Would you like me to wake him?" The doctor asked him, looking completely bored as he ambled to the other side of the bed. In his hand was a cocked needle, fully ready to diffuse should the officer give the okay. Lexaeus stilled the man with a hand held aloft.

"I have questions for only you, first. _Then_ we'll wake him."

In a wave of consciousness, Zexion could hear the words, faint and just barely distinguishable, "We can't trust him one his own. I think the incident this morning proved that. Does he have any family?"

"No. I had someone look into it and he's the last of his surname. The roommate was the one he'd been living with. And now, well, it looks like he's back to being all on his own."

"No others friends?"

"Doesn't look like it."

"A pity... he looks so peaceful right now..."

_'One of those voices... I know that voice... Lex...'_

He faded out again.

"Can you hear me, Zexion?"

"Unfortunately."

"Good to see the fight didn't ruin his sense of humor."

Zexion, whose eyes had otherwise been clenched closed, sat up in bed, eyes pinning the officer to the spot. He was angry for some reason, but couldn't remember why. The time he'd spent in the hospital was all blurring together, and his memories began to muddle. But Lexaeus had said something about a fight?

"How long was I out?" He settled for asking, and when the doctor held up three fingers and mumbled something about hours, he sighed. Some decent doctors they had here. The man couldn't even be bothered to lift his eyes from the clipboard in his hands, and Zexion wondered briefly if there wasn't a dirty magazine pinned there.

Lexaeus cleared his throat.

"Zexion, have you had time to think over what you did?"

The lilac-haired man thought about it, hand finding his chin. He scratched at it, grumbled to himself, then said, "I believe I have. I, the naughty child, have finished my time in the corner, if I do say so myself. Have you managed to convince some people in higher places, Mr. Lexaeus?"

"I have indeed." The burly man said, the corners of his mouth twitching up in a grin. "You've been pardoned by the great mayor Ansem himself."

A great sigh of relief left him, hand finding his heart. It was over, it was all over.

He remembered then the fight with Demyx, a swirling vortex of acidic tasting memories. His eyes swam, but he held back tears and tried to look at least somewhat thrilled.

"That's good. I can go home then, move on, you know?"

He tried to push back the covers and found his hands were shaking too hard to do so. His knees ached, his head pulsed.

The doctor obviously hadn't given him any medicine.

A hand on his shoulder stopped him, and when he looked up into the rugged face of the officer that had taken his freedom and then given it back, he found the expression there to be unsure.

"There are... conditions."

Zexion paused, taking this revelation in stride. "Why do I get the feeling I'm not going to like them?"

Lexaeus smiled grimly. "Because you won't."

"Then just give it to me bluntly. Don't sugarcoat it."

Pausing, Lexaeus found the creepy doctor Vexen to be staring up at him, looking just as curious as Zexion. He scratched his neck, palms sweating. How to word it?

"Well, in short... You and I will be seeing quite a lot of one another for the next month or two."

"No, don't tell me," Zexion began, a look of stricken panic taking over his face. "You're not going to be following me around or something, are you?"

He thought of how the next few weeks would be if his guess was right. Trying to picture Lexaeus sitting behind him in class, or pushing his shopping cart, Zexion couldn't help but feel a little sick. He hated that his privacy was about to be invaded in such a personal way, and at the moment he absolutely loathed the cop before him, freedom or not.

But Lexaeus didn't look done. In fact, his expression only darkened.

"You're only... _slightly_ right. You see, you're being place under house arrest. But since you don't have your own home, well..." He looked to Dr. Vexen for help, but the blond only shrugged.

Lexaeus groaned inwardly.

"You'll be staying with me, in my home and everywhere I go, for the next sixty days."


	3. Not As It Seems

**Disclaimer:** Kingdom Hearts does not belong to me.

**Warnings:** Yaoi.

Edited: 8/21/2011

* * *

They released him two days later, calm and collected, all traces of bruising and dementia gone. The nurse that had been tending him was the one to wheel him from the hospital, and when they reached the large overhang bordering the parking lot she dumped him unceremoniously on the asphalt, heels clicking angrily as she turned and went back in.

Zexion watched her go, glaring, then stood to brush himself off.

He didn't have a car, didn't know anyone that could come pick him up, and the last thing he wanted to do was walk all the way to Demyx' house to claim his belongings. In fact, he didn't care if he _did_ have a car, he still wouldn't have wanted to go see the blond. It hadn't been long enough, and while he was pining for his books he preferred waiting over the inevitable argument that would ensue.

"What a fine mess you've gotten yourself into this time, Zexion." He grumbled to himself, hands clenched tightly at his sides as he strode into the sun and across the asphalt. There was a general store not too far from here, and if he was lucky there would be a pay phone there that he could hail a cab with.

Not that transportation services were very common in this part of the city, but still. Maybe he would get lucky.

The sun beat down on his ill-worn hair, drawing sweat from pores and making his bangs stick to his forehead. It did nothing for his mood, and even less for his confidence out here in the open. He was hot, sweaty, and clothed in nothing but a hospital gown and his favorite coat. The clothes he'd worn the night he'd been brought in were ruined, stained so deeply with mud and twigs and so torn that even hookers would have hooted at him as he walked by. So he'd opted for the flimsy hospital clothes, thrown his jacket over it and said he'd manage, regardless.

It had been Lexaeus he'd told that to, and the man hadn't seemed to approve very much. Had even offered to go out and buy him a few things, if it would make him feel better. Zexion quickly nipped the conversation in the ass, making it clear that he could fend for himself just fine, thank you. The officer had been anything but approving.

But he didn't really care what the other man thought.

The esteemed, or so he liked to be called, Dr. Vexen had managed to acquire a pair of shoes for him, ratty Chuck Taylors that honestly didn't match what he was wearing at all, not to mention that the creepy doctor himself had refused to tell him just where he'd gotten them.

Most likely, he chose to assume, from the morgue.

When they'd brought in his coat at well, he'd half-heartedly reached for the inside pocket, feeling for the book he'd stolen. But unsurprisingly it wasn't there, and instead he found a sticky note with a frown scribbled on it. He'd growled, crushed the note, and thrown it out the window.

At the edge of the parking lot he was forced to wait a good three minutes for traffic to slow, and even as the light turned red and the cars were required to stop, he was nearly clipped by a speeding truck. After giving the man at the wheel the finger, Zexion continued across the road and took the sidewalk, hoping to reach the general store before anyone he knew saw him. The college wasn't too far away after all, and lunch was creeping up. This area would be swarmed with hungry students before long.

Not even a minute after he'd thought it, a group of laughing, pretty-faced girls turned a corner not too far from him, and much to his dismay they were walking straight towards him. Zexion looked down at his hideous looking gown, the fact that it stopped just short of his scraggly, scarred knees and was adorned in white polka dots to contrast its light blue hue made him dart off the sidewalk and into the nearest building, which, to his relief, was an antique shop. It was pretty much assured that no one from his college would have any interest in perusing something like that.

The girl at the register gave him an odd look, eyes traveling up and down to take in his clothing and ragged appearance. She watched him as he ambled over to the far window, peered outside and watched the group of girls toddle past. When Zexion let out a sigh of relief, he heard the sound of shuffling and turned to find her armed with an umbrella.

"What are you doing in here? Hiding from someone?" She stared fixedly at his hospital attire, then gasped. "Dear God, you're not a patient from across the street are you? Don't tell me you ran away, cause I will beat you down with this umbrella and-"

"Relax." Zexion said quickly, annoyed at the girls reaction. "I've been legally released from the hospital, I just didn't have any proper clothes and had to make due with what I had. Now if you'd be so kind as to put the umbrella down I'd be happy to leave your establishment post haste."

The girl eyed him for a minute more, and in the silence Zexion could hear the sound of a small portable radio blasting terrible pop music.

"Well," The girl began, looking guilty. "I guess you can't be too crazy if you can still talk like that. What with the post haste and establishment talk..." She dropped the umbrella on the counter and sighed. "Sorry man, but you never can tell with people nowadays. I mean, not three days ago I heard about a guy stealing the towns Lexicon out of nowhere! Crazy stuff, huh? And once, this guy came in and -" She chuckled, missing the look of guilty terror on Zexion's face, "Well, it's a dumb story and you probably aren't interested anyway, so yeah, just uh, go back to doing what you were doing!" She left him to round the corner of the register table, and in her absence Zexion quickly schooled his expression into something that probably resembled calm.

Despite the fact that he was anything but.

"My name is Kairi by the way, nice to meet you!" Zexion returned his attention to the girl, and took the hand she offered him, head inclining as he supplied his own name.

"Zexion, huh? Sounds exotic! But I guess Kairi isn't the most typical name either..." Kairi began to drift in thought, hand on her chin. Zexion watched her awkwardly, waiting, then cleared his throat.

She flinched and looked back at him, then smiled, bemused.

"Sorry 'bout that, I tend to drift. Anywho, what brought you here of all places? I mean, no offense to my dear old Grandma, but it's not exactly the best shop around."

"I'm just, ah, poking about, I suppose. I've never been in here so I thought that maybe-"

"You really _were_ hiding from someone, weren't you?" Kairi giggled behind her hand at the look she received, one of shock and guilt and then embarrassment. "It's okay," She continued, soothing him. "As long as you aren't running from the cops or doctors or something, feel free to stay here as long as you'd like. It wouldn't be the first time someone's darted in here to hide, after all. From angry lover's to dentists to dogs... And I can't _really_ blame you, I mean, you don't exactly have that casual pedestrian look to you in those clothes." Kairi laughed again, and Zexion tried his best not to find her happy-go-lucky attitude irritating. "I've seen my fair share of strange things, I guess. But anyway, I've gotta get back to work. Don't be a stranger, Zexion!"

"Ah, thank you, Kairi." Zexion watched her amble towards a room in the back, but before she was out of earshot, "I'll be sure to come back and actually _buy_ something next time. And to visit, of course."

"I'd like that." She replied with a smile, and with a cheery little wave Kairi disappeared through an open doorway and did not return. A moment or so later he could hear her voice answering a call from another, much older one. He sighed, glanced about the shelves around him, then made to exit.

He planned on waiting a while longer, perhaps even until lunch hour passed and traffic slowed down a bit. But he didn't think Kairi's invitation would stand that long and he didn't really want to still be there when she _did_ come back. The thought of looking around and maybe finding something to buy crossed his mind, but as the girl had said there really _wasn't_ much to look at. And furthermore...

He knew he had someone waiting on him.

He also knew that he _probably_ should have waited back at the hospital, because said someone would be quite angry if he found him wandering around town.

But Zexion didn't really care.

He left Kairi's shop tentatively, watching and waiting for anyone he may have known. When no such person appeared he headed back down the well-worn sidewalk in the direction he'd been traveling.

The cars passed by, some slowing to stare at him, other speeding up when he glared angrily. One man had the nerve to stop and ask him if he needed a ride, to which he replied, teeth tight, "Thank you sir, but no. I'm quite fine on my own,_ thank you_." They sped off, leaving him in the dust and Zexion began to wonder if _I'm fine, thank you_ was becoming his motto.

After that he took a more discreet path, one hidden between the buildings that required a bit of walking through the grass. It didn't bother him that the dew soaked his shoes pretty quickly, or that the people loitering around shop windows could clearly seem him. Let them stare like he was some crazy, demented person, he knew who he was. And that he was just... just...

"I just want to be _alone_." He groaned.

When he finally arrived at the tiny little general store on the corner, he fully intended to sidle along the aisles until he reached the furthermost corner of the place. There he would be able to hide until nightfall. No one would notice him and no one would ask any questions, and maybe if he was lucky he could swipe a pack of gum and a Coke while the clerk was on break.

But before he could even _enter_ the store, a voice called out to him, an angry tone that made the hairs on the back of his neck rise. Zexion swallowed around the knot in his throat, turning to face imminent danger. Danger in the form of an angry officer whose hands were clenched into fists as he stomped across the parking lot towards Zexion.

The lilac-haired teen offered a weak wave, one that was definitely _not_ returned. Lexaeus' eyes narrowed.

"You were told to wait at the hospital, Zexion. I'm going to assume you forgot that, and that's why you're all the way over here, in the middle of nowhere and dressed like..." Lexaeus trailed off, but Zexion ignored his roaming eyes in favor of thrusting a finger into the man's chest.

"You don't _own_ me, and I _won't_ be leashed, officer."

"So you want to go to jail after all? Because if someone else had seen you here and _recognized _you, you'd be in a lot of trouble right now. You're supposed to be with me from this day onwards, remember? You're not supposed to leave my line of sight, and you'd do well to not forget that."

"How could I? It's only the worst possible thing that could ever happen to someone like me." Zexion crossed his arms over his chest, inclining his head at the idling police cruiser parked in one of the empty lots. Its lights were flashing in a startling array of colors that dredged up memories he really wasn't planning on dealing with.

In a moment of humor, he pointed at the car and said, coyly, "Are you planning on arresting me, sir?"

Lexaeus scoffed. "I have cuffs, don't tempt me."

Zexion rolled his eyes and turned, "Whatever. Before we go I need to buy some things. I most certainly don't want to be toted around in a police cruiser in this attire, after all. The things people would say..."

"We have somewhere we need to be, your clothes will have to wait." Lexaeus reached out and snatched Zexion by the wrist, pulling him away from the automatic door and the sudden rush of processed air that spilled out of them. Zexion growled, trying to yank away, knowing that to anyone in the store or lot would think he was being taken in, but he didn't care, he just wanted him arm back.

"I can walk myself, thank you very much!" He griped, and Lexaeus released him, leaving the teen to rub his wrist sorely. "Don't touch me." He muttered, making his way towards the car.

The door opened smoothly, air conditioning welcoming him happily. Zexion settled in, pulled the belt tight across his chest and immediately pushed a few random buttons on the radio. Lexaeus climbed into the driver's seat and eyed him warily, ears tuned to the sound of punk rock music. Zexion raised a delicate eyebrow.

"What are you looking at?"

The driver sighed, closed his door and pulled the seatbelt across his wide chest. "I just saw you as more of the classical type."

"I listen to all kinds of music." Zexion grumbled, and directed his attention out of the window, completely blocking the other man out. Lexaeus' eyes roamed over his face for another minute more, wondering at the sheaf of bangs covering the teen's face. Why someone would want to obscure their face in such a way he didn't know, but he decided not to question it, due to the fact that Zexion _really _didn't seem to like him at the moment.

Without another word he pulled out of the lot and headed in the general direction of the address he'd been given a day or so ago. An address he himself was unfamiliar with, but Zexion would know quite well.

Three miles from their intended destination, Zexion began to fidget. Lexaeus paid no notice to it at first, but when the man began to loudly drum his fingers on the door, he asked him if there was something on his mind that needed sharing.

"We're going to Demyx' house, aren't we?"

A stop sign deemed them to halt, and the officer took the chance to glance at Zexion from the corner of his eye. "Mhm. We're supposed to be collecting your things, and that's it. I've called ahead so everything is set and there's no need for you to worry." He turned his head to look the passenger in the eye, stare firm. "I don't want you getting into another fight either, so do try to stay calm."

"I'll be fine." Zexion retorted, and the car crept forward, speeding up to obey the limit. They passed a few small houses, some surrounded by dingy white fences and other open and free. Zexion had known this neighborhood as a child, had lived close to it, and had been told that this was where the poorer people lived. He sighed, set his head against the window and watched the homes zip by. "It won't take that long to pack my things." He whispered. And in that same breath he mouthed a prayer to anyone willing to listen. A prayer begging for his precious books to lay where he'd left them, in a small mountain that surrounded his small futon. The window would be closed, the curtain pulled across to shield the room from the harsh rays of the sun. The covers would a mess, half pulled onto the floor from a clumsy departure. Zexion hoped Demyx had at least picked up a couple boxes.

Ten minutes later they were pulling up a thin gravel driveway, rocks popping under the cruisers heavy tires. Said driveway was lined with lovingly tended shrubs and flowers, the house itself also lined with plants, each perfectly watered and flowing over their hanging pots and pitchers. When the car stopped Zexion popped the handle on the door and got out, his face pale and his hands wringing nervously together. If he'd had the option, he would have thrown himself back into the car and never come out again.

Lexaeus opened his own door and stared awkwardly at the tiny house. He knew he was supposed to keep Zexion in his line of sight at all times, but to intrude on a place so private... It didn't help that they'd just met, and that the tiny teen was currently clinging to the side of his car. This probably wasn't going to end well.

Zexion took a shuddering breath and headed up the sidewalk, not stopping to see if the officer was following him. In his heart he hoped that Demyx wouldn't be home, that way he could just filch the key under the mat and let himself in.

But seeing as how the owner of the home already thought he was an awful thief, that probably wasn't the best course of action.

The doorbell was cold under his finger, and he found that no matter how much he wanted to, he could not find the courage to push it. So instead he pulled back the metal grate covering the door and knocked slowly, waiting for an answer.

Silence met him, deafening and lonely. Vaguely he registered the sound of boots on stone, and then the creak of footsteps on the porch. A presence at his back...

The door opened, revealing a very neutral-faced man, one whose blue hair rivaled in oddity that of Zexion's own.

A spark seemed to pass between the lilac-haired teen and this blue-haired fellow, and Lexaeus suddenly wondered if this was Demyx, and if it had been wise to let Zexion knock on the door instead of himself. But the teen's shoulders were relaxing, and in as polite a tone as possible he said, "Good afternoon, _Saïx. I trust you know why I... why ____we're__ here. May we come in?"_

_"Yeah, sure." Saïx said stiffly, giving off the air of someone who couldn't care less one way or another. He stepped away from the door to allow them entry and Lexaeus nodded at him, presenting his hand._

_"Officer Lexaeus, nice to meet you." _

_Saïx took his hand, shaking it firmly. Lexaeus couldn't help but notice how cold it was. _

_"My name is Saïx, nice to meet you as well. Although, the circumstances make this a most... awkward meeting." He sighed, shrugged and returned to the loveseat he'd been occupying before the two had arrived. A cold glass of green tea sat on the coffee table before the seat, placed neatly beside an open novel. "Demyx is out." He added, an underlying note of amusement in his voice. "He didn't want to be around while you were here, so I'm keeping watch instead." Saïx picked up his book and flipped it open, opting to block out his guests instead of leading them further into the house. Completely guiless to the look of raw frustration on Zexion's face, he flipped a page and that was that. Shaking his head, the teen gestured for the officer to follow him and stepped carefully around a pile of shoes to lead them down a hallway in the back. Lexaeus trailed close behind, having to duck his head slightly to keep it from bumping with the ceiling. He noticed at that point just how short Zexion was, and wished that he too could be just a foot or so smaller. Being tall had its advantages, sure, but the disadvantages seemed to outweigh them a majority of the time. _

_So engrossed in his thoughts, the giant of a man nearly bowled Zexion over when the lilac-haired teen stopped to unlock a door. The boy glared up at him, that single visible eye just barely illuminated in the darkness of the hall._

_"Sorry." The officer said, taking a step back. _

The door opened with an ear-splitting shriek, and Zexion muttered a curse as he kicked it open. He'd meant to get it fixed at some point, but as busy as he was he'd never quite gotten around to it.

Nonetheless, he ambled into the room, left hand reaching for the light fixture above his head. He had to jump to pull the string attached to it, and he blushed angrily when Lexaeus chuckled at him.

In the center of the room were three folded boxes, and atop them lay a white piece of parchment. Zexion snatched it before the officer could see and quickly shoved it into his pocket. He picked up the box laying on top and shaped it quickly, wanting to get this done and over with. Once that was done he shoved it at Lexaeus and pointed to the tiny dresser by the bed.

"Take out the contents of the first two drawers. Don't worry about folding them because they're already as neat as I like them. Just be careful and don't stare at my undergarments any longer than absolutely necessary."

"Wouldn't dream of it."

Zexion plucked the second box up and shaped it as well, deciding that it would probably only hold a third of his books, and that in the end most of what he owned would have to be carried to the car or left behind. He sighed and set to work, placing well-loved novels into the cardboard as carefully as possible. The stack was nearly as tall as he was, and by the time he'd filled his box up Lexaeus had already finished his own task. Zexion felt something soft hit the back of his head, and when he picked up the projectile he found himself frowning down at a pair of socks.

"You have a strange folding style." Lexaeus told him, placing the box by the half-open door.

"I prefer unique." Zexion retorted, tossing the socks back over his shoulder.

A third box and a tiny stack of unpacked books later, Zexion was shoving his quilt into a fresh pillowcase, tying it up like a runaways rucksack. Besides the sheets, his clothes and his books he had little else to bring with him. His officer had already taken the boxes out to the car, his only comment being, "I sure don't hope we have to arrest anyone on the way home. They'd have to sit up front with us!"

Zexion had snorted and handed the man an armful of books to shush him. Before long they'd cleared them all, and after the lilac-haired teen had retrieved the few he'd hidden about the room he was nearly ready to leave. All he had left was a large bookbag and a few notebooks sitting on the floor. Inside the bag were his textbooks for college, and essentially everything he needed to attend school.

It had been awhile since he'd gone, though...

With everything said and done Zexion ushered Lexaeus from the room, turning to face it for one final goodbye. He'd become a bit attached in his time here, and even if the room was small and plain he had always found it perfect.

"I'll get the car started." Lexaeus said, leaving him to his own devices. Zexion was slightly grateful, because it gave him the chance to sigh and fold inwards on himself a bit, suddenly sad at the prospect of never seeing this place, or its main resident, ever again.

The note in his pocket crinkled loudly.

He pulled it out, unfolded it and smoothed out the creases. Demyx' large, clumsy scrawl wriggled its way across the page, dominating lines and obeying not a single law of proper letter making.

It read as such,

"_Zexion,_

_ Hey man, I know I was pretty mean to you the other day, but I couldn't help myself. In some ways it was a bit uncalled for, mostly that last bit, but, I mean, if I didn't say it then I knew I never would have been able to later on... Anyway, I just wanted to say that I apologize, and that I'm going to think long and hard about all of this. And maybe, just maybe, when your sentence is over and all of this has faded a bit, I might let you come back. Best friends forever, right? Also, the school's been calling about you. Skipping class, are we? If you could see me now you'd see that I'm shaking my head. In the next couple months, try to get yourself straightened out, okay? I... I just want you to be happy. In present and future. You know my number._

_ May the Force be with you, _

_ Demyx_

_P.S. Yes, I did just quote Star Wars. Sue me. :)_

Zexion crushed the note in his hand, letting forth a shaky breath. His eyes were teary but he refused to let the liquid fall over his lashes. He'd thought Demyx would have been angrier, and for a much longer time. But from the looks of the letter...

It only served to confuse him, and he left the room without waiting a moment longer.

When he got to the living room Saïx was leaning against the wall, book in hand, and when he walked in the man looked up, eyes narrowing.

"Before you leave," He started, voice lower by several degrees. "Demyx wanted me to ask you if you had anything left to say to him. I'd be happy to pass the message on for you." He waited, watching the look of deliberation on Zexion's face with a passive, if not bored, expression. Finally, Zexion shook his head. But not because he didn't have anything to pass along, per se. It was due to the look on the other man's face, the cold spark in his eyes, the rigidness of his posture, Zexion couldn't help but think that the last thing Saïx wanted to do was pass anything on.

"I don't have anything to say right now. But... I guess you could tell him thank you. For everything."

He left then, backpack in hand, not stopping to look back. Saïx followed him out the door, saying nothing as he did so. Zexion nodded a goodbye, threw his bag in the back seat of the cruiser and climbed in. All he wanted to do was get away from this place, to put this neighborhood and its people as far behind him as possible. Lexaeus didn't speak to him, just motioned for the seatbelt leaning against the frame of the car and then put the vehicle into drive. Saïx watched them leave, eyes morphing into hard shards of amber.

He would not be passing on any messages today.

A few minutes down the road, Zexion shifted in his seat, eyes staring fixedly at the man beside him.

"Can we buy clothes now? This gown keeps riding up."

Lexaeus turned the radio down, blocking out the sound of angry guitars and choruses and said, "Not just yet. I got a call while you were finishing up. I've got, ah, guests, waiting for us at home." He smiled knowingly to himself and glanced quickly in Zexion's direction to take in his reaction. "I might have told them a bit about your situation, so they're eager to meet you."

"You did what?" Zexion seethed, hands reaching for the larger man's throat. Lexaeus took one hand and shoved the man back, ruffling his hair as he did so. Zexion pouted, arms crossing over his chest at just how childlike he felt in that moment. And indeed, the pout on his face, the flush to his cheeks and his small stature made him easily similar to that of a small child. "I can't believe you'd do that. How rude."

"You'll be alright. They're good guys, so you don't have to worry. And it's not like I told them your life story or something."

"Only because you don't know it." He huffed.

Lexaeus smiled at him. "Well, we'll just have to fix that, won't we?"

Zexion didn't answer.

The house they pulled up to was not a mansion by any means, but it was larger than any house Zexion had ever had the opportunity to call his own. He stepped out of the car and collected his bag, leaving the books and the boxes for later. Lexaeus had told him he would carry them in himself, and because they were so heavy Zexion didn't argue. He noted the second police cruiser already parked in the driveway and frowned. So Lexaeus _hadn't_ been kidding, but he never mentioned that the guests were more cops.

The large man called for him to follow and led him up the wrap around porch. Lexaeus didn't bother looking for keys, knowing that the door was certainly unlocked. He turned the knob and opened the door to a rush of cool air, and ushered his guest in first.

The house opened immediately up in all directions, before him being a hall that led to what seemed to be a dining room, to his left he assumed was the living room(wherein a large tv was on, spewing forth the sounds of crazy car chases and screaming dames), and to his right a staircase, then a small sitting room. It opened further in the back, probably to extra rooms and a kitchen, but he thought it rude to go exploring without permission.

"Hello?" Lexaeus called out, ambling into the living room as he slipped off his coat. Zexion removed his shoes and followed, unsure of what he'd find. He feared that the man's guests would turn out to be rugged enforcers of the law, ones who looked even scarier than the man he'd come here with. Zexion gulped.

When he stepped into the living room, the light snapped on and before him lay a scene he could have very well done without.

Two men, one not too much younger than himself and one probably just a bit older, sat on the couch before the television. Pillows were strewn about the floor, and the remote to the otherwise forgotten television was a mess of batteries on the carpet. The younger man sat atop the others lap, their faces flushed as they clung to one another.

Zexion blinked, then scoffed and averted his eyes.

Because they were, well, _kissing_.


	4. Welcome

I'm sorry! I'm so sorry ;-; Between NaNoWriMo and computer viruses, I had NO time to write on my multi-chapter fics. If I could, I would have. But, I'm finally back, and I hope it can stay that way. So I bring an update, and even if it's a bit short and odd, I hope you can still enjoy it.

**Disclaimer:** Kingdom Hearts does not belong to me.

**Warnings: **Yaoi.

_

* * *

__When he walked into the living room, the light snapped on and before him lay a scene he could have very well done without._

_Two men, one not too much younger than himself and one probably just a bit older, sat on the couch before the television. Pillows were strewn about the floor, and the remote to the otherwise forgotten television was a mess of batteries on the carpet. The younger man sat atop the others lap, and their faces were flushed._

_Zexion blinked._

_They were... kissing?_

"Hey, what did I tell you about doing that kind of stuff in my house?" Lexaeus shouted, picking up a pillow from the floor to throw it at the two. The startled pair on the couch scattered, the lanky red head diving under the coffee table while the little brunette threw himself over the back of the furniture he'd been sitting on.

"Oi, oi! Watch it, Lexaeus! I'm just trying to entertain a friend here!"

"Yeah, I've heard that a dozen times before. And I've also told you a dozen times to stop bringing your freaky dates here! And hey, what happened to Larxene? I was expecting her to be here, not some kid."

"We, ah, had a falling out?" Axel tried, glancing anxiously back at the couch.

"And hey!" The blond made a swift and angry reappearance, his tousled hair and warm cerulean eyes peeking over the back of the couch. "I am _not_ freaky!"

"Look, Kid," Lexaeus said gruffly, all business once more, "Axel gets a new significant other every other week. You would be saving yourself a lot of grief if you up and left him now."

Axel, still beneath the table, let out an indignant cry, "Don't listen to him, Sora! I only want you, I swear!"

But 'Sora' wasn't listening, his vivid blue eyes were narrow as he threw himself back over the couch, seating himself comfortably on the fluffy cushions. "Wait, wait wait... Seriously? A new one every other week?"

"Mhm."

"Well isn't that lovely." Sighing, Sora stood, collecting his discarded coat from the heap it had become on the floor. "It's over, Axel. You're just another lying sleazeball, it seems."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"You told me you hardly dated, and yet, this guy says you have a new partner every week. Are you saying he's lying?"

"Axel fell silent, tapping his fingers against his jaw in thought. Zexion watched him chew the inside of his cheek, mulling over words that may or may not have helped his case. But Lexaeus, who had obviously seen this happen at least ten times over by now, only rolled his eyes and began to strip off his jacket.

"Well, so I'm not exactly a saint, per se. But you're the only one I'm dating at this very _moment_. That counts for _something_, right?"

"Yeah," Sora shot back, all pain and anger, "It does. It accounts for me leaving. See you around, Axel." And with that, the brunette promptly strutted from the room, his nose held high and proud despite the blush on his thin cheeks.

"Wait, Sora!" Axel shouted, smacking his head on the table not once, but twice as he scrambled to get out from under it, "I didn't mean for it to come out like that!"

Sora, who stood in the main doorway, crooked a delicate eyebrow up, "Tell me, Axel," He began sweetly, "Whose house is this?"

The red heads face drained of color, his teeth worrying at his lip. Those acidic green eyes quickly darted over to Lexaeus, pleading for help. "Um... well, it's not mine _exactly_, but-"

With a slam, the door fell closed, the chime above it accenting Sora's departure.

"I don't think that could have gone worse." Lexaeus said mildly, the faintest hint of a smile on his face. Axel whirled on him and glared, "Thanks a lot, Lex! I really liked this one, too!"

The red head darted out the door himself, his footsteps echoing down the porch, and then the gravel drive. When he finally disappeared, leaving nothing but silence and two mildly amused men, Lexaeus cleared his throat and smiled sheepishly down at Zexion. "Sorry about that. My partner is criminally insane."

"How appropriate." Zexion mused, and then, "Partner?"

Lexaeus chuckled, shaking his head as he ushered Zexion to remove his coat. "No, not like that." Axel is a fellow officer, we work together."

"That man is a cop? _How_?"

"God knows." Grinning, Lexaeus took Zexion's offered coat and threw it on a nearby chair along with his own. "Anyway, now that we're alone, let me show you around the house."

Yes, alone. Zexion felt a knot stick in his throat at that word. The thought of being alone in this quaint little house, locked away and stuck with this giant of a man, gave him the creeps. They'd just met, after all. And even now, standing on the hardwood floor of Lexaeus' living room, Zexion couldn't quite say he felt _safe_.

"Right. Show me around then, it's your house." He made to walk back to the door from which they'd come in, only to have the sound of stifled laughter reach his ears. Zexion turned and gave Lexaeus an inquiring look, only to find the man averting his eyes. "What? What's wrong?"

"You, ah, might want to put your coat back on. For the time being."

"Why?"

"Um."

Zexion looked down at himself, wondering what had the man on the border of deep laughter. But really, besides his garish hospital attire, there was really nothing to – wait... -

A blush crept over his cheeks, filling them out nicely as he stared intently down at the floor, the ceiling, anywhere but the man in front of him. Because when he'd begun to walk away...

Let's just say that, for whatever reason, hospital gowns have no back, and therefore, when one tries to walk around in one...

"You are a child." Zexion finally said, snatching his coat back from the chuckling man. "Stop laughing at me."

"I'm not laughing. I'm snickering."

"Same thing."

"Not really."

"Show me around your damn house, Lexaeus."

Laughing, Lexaeus patted Zexion on the shoulder, amused greatly by the pout he received for doing so. Fortunately, he seemed to be done teasing the tiny little man, and led him into the main hall, which parted in three directions. One hall led to another sitting room, adorned with a fancy little fireplace and a couple loveseats, garbed in quilts that, from where they stood, looked handmade. Another section led to not another room, but a staircase that stood nearly right before the front door. Zexion peered up into the darkness, reaching out for the smooth oak rail, but Lexaeus said, "Later. We'll go to the kitchen first." And led him away by the small of his back.

The last hall, which parted into another hallway down, led to a dining room that one could see from the front door. To the right was an arch that led into a small kitchen, one that lacked counters and proper appliances, but was probably well suited for a one man household.

Or, at least, Zexion assumed it was a one man household.

Lexaeus headed into the kitchen, but Zexion made his way over to a window that overlooked the backyard. Outside he could see a few telephone polls and some martin houses, but it seemed like they were uninhabited. He found it, in a way, cliché. That this man would give up his home to the company of such gently little birds, even when he himself was such a... well, to the naked eye, a brutal, giant of a man.

"I hope you know how to cook better than I do." Lexaeus shouted from the kitchen, the sound of water following him. "My meals are edible at best."

"I hope you like pop-tarts and ramen." Zexion called back, smiling softly. Such food was the lifeblood of college goers, and the only real thing he'd eaten since he'd begun attending TU; Twilight University.

"I was only joking. I can cook pretty well, actually." Emerging from the kitchen, Lexaeus handed Zexion a small clear glass of water, within it bobbing two large ice cubes. "Drink. I know you're thirsty."

And he did, downing the glass in two great gulps. He let out a sated sigh upon finishing, glad to be free of the rasp he'd had since he'd awoken that morning.

The rest of the house consisted of small bedrooms, bathrooms and a laundry room that connected to the garage. Zexion noted the cat food leaning against the wall, and opened his mouth to inquire about it, but before he had the chance, something hit him from behind and sent him flying, sprawling on the floor as he tried to wrestle whatever had him off the back of his head.

There was no pain, at least, not until he wrapped his hands around the furry creature and yanked, pulling it off the tangled mess of his hair. He pulled the beast forward, glaring at its mahogany eyes, and said, "You could have mentioned the satanic cat, Lexaeus."

"It didn't come up." Lexaeus took the rather large cat from him, coddling it close. " Nala didn't mean anything by it, you just surprised her."

"Nala? Like... the one from that Disney movie?"

It didn't even look like a Nala, all orange fluff and bushy tail. Its eye tracked every movement Zexion made, and when he stood, Nala hissed angrily, ears flattening against her skull.

"Is she dangerous?"

"Not anymore. She was de-clawed. Kind of necessary when all she wants to do is tear your skin off."

"So I've seen." The cat wriggled out of Lexaeus' grasp and dove behind a washing machine, bushy tail disappearing ominously into the shadows. "I'll be watching that one."

"Word of advice, just to make you feel better... Watch her eyes. They dilate all the way through the color before she pounces."

"Duly noted." Zexion said sarcastically.

With that done, and the laundry room officially marked as a danger zone, Zexion was led out of the room and back to the front door, where Lexaeus seated him on the bottom stair. He had assumed they'd be going up to finish the tour, but when the other man did nothing but sit beside him, he couldn't help but ask, "Clothes now? Later? Anytime this week?"

"Soon." Lexaeus said, peering at him from beneath the curls falling in his eyes. He'd leaned over to retrieve something from his pocket, and when he sat back up and held up the object, Zexion's eyes widened.

"You're kidding me, right?"

In his hands, which Zexion noted were quite large and calloused, worn by time, was a small device. It was small and square, attached to an elastic band that would fit snugly around any limb of choice. Lexaeus flipped it over and pressed a button, and when he turned it back around, a few lights had appeared on the small screen.

"This," He began, holding it up for the lilac-haired man to see, "Is a tracking device. I can monitor it from my phone." Lexaeus dug around in his pocket once more, this time producing a small cell phone that, when flipped open, had the same lights at the bottom of the screen that the tracker did. "This will be attached to your wrist or your ankle, whichever you prefer, and will be worn at all times. Don't think of it as something restricting. It's just so I don't lose you on the job. Or in the house... it's a big house..." He trailed off, seeing the look in Zexion's eyes. One of distrust and uncertainty and hesitation. It wasn't that he wanted to do it, but there was nothing he could do. It was an order from the higher ups themselves.

"I'll be able to go back to school?"

"If you'd like. But I'll have to go with you."

"Lovely." Zexion let his head fall back, his bangs falling back against his ear. A sigh wrest itself from his mouth. In all honesty, he really didn't want to go back to the University. Sure, he enjoyed the classes. They were easy, and the professors were a bunch of fools anyway. But the people... they were what he couldn't deal with. The taunting, the sideways glances, the bulkier males who would try to wrestle him down and pound some masculinity into his small frame. He hated them all, and now that he'd gone and stole the Lexicon, become a legend of sorts in the criminal handbook, he could only imagine what their opinion of him would be.

Not that he cared, but it made his life quite a bit easier to go unnoticed.

But that would be truly impossible with the towering giant following him everywhere. He could only imagine what the people would say, how they would _laugh_. How they would _cringe_.

How troublesome.

"Regardless, you have to wear it. We'll take small steps, though. You can take it off when you go to bed tonight. As long as you promise not to run off." It wasn't said, but it didn't need to be. The, 'Because next time I won't be as lenient.' was evident enough in Lexaeus' tone.

In a corner, heart beating as rapidly as a hummingbirds wing, Zexion extended his hand to take the device. "My ankle would work, I don't like the thought of having that bulky gadgetry on my wrist." But before he could snatch it, Lexaeus pulled away, a glimmer of something just behind his eyes. "Allow me." He said, retreating from the staircase to sit before Zexion. With gentle hands, he picked Zexion's leg up and brought it to rest on one of his stone-like thighs. Breath hitching in surprise, the lilac-haired man wanted nothing more than to wrench his leg away and yell at the man for being a fool, but in the beat of a heart the device was already on, the elastic slipping easily in place, and Lexaeus was already stepping away, acting as if, for the briefest of seconds, his fingers hadn't lingered over the delicate bone in Zexion's ankle.

Caressing it.

Face flushed, "Don't touch me." Was all Zexion could say, and the second the giants back was turned, he retreated from the staircase, the sheer feel of it a reminder of the memory that had just been burned into his mind.

xXxXx

The living room, in a state of disarray that, was the first thing Lexaeus tended to after addressing the situation with Zexion. Batteries laying in the floor were scooped up, pillows were thrown back on the couch. The television was switched off and unplugged. Blankets thrown back on the chair, the table straightened.

It was a wonder the room was still recognizable, what with the way Axel and, what had it been? Sora? How they had left it. Lexaeus shook his head, smiling despite himself. Axel had a way of putting not one, but both of his feet in his mouth. Sora wouldn't be crawling back to him anytime soon, if at all. Supposing he should feel at least a tiny bit guilty, he amended to call his partner later.

Zexion soon joined him, seating himself awkwardly in one of the cushy chairs. His hands found purchase on his knobbly little knees, eyes darting to and fro across the room, taking it all in.

And, of course, he was still wearing that flimsy little hospital gown.

Well, it was now or never. He was free, and who knew when he would be again.

"How about we go find you something to wear, and then I feed you, hm? I'm sure you're starving after spending the last few days in the hospital."

Zexion raised an eyebrow, unsure of how to respond. Not a few minutes ago this man had been, well, feeling him up. Sort of. Not really, but regardless, he felt a tad awkward in this room, this house, with him.

So perhaps it would be better to get out after all. As long as they didn't run into one of his familiars, everything would be fine.

Right?

"Hm, fine with me. I wouldn't object to actually wearing pants for once."

Lexaeus chuckled.

He couldn't deny that he would almost miss the gown.

* * *

_Reviews Are Love!~_


	5. Awkward

I like to sit and write in one sitting, so these past couple chapters have been shorter than the first few. I hope they're still acceptable. And I'll probably go back to working on prompts for a few days now since I've updated twice. Haha.

Anyway, there was something I was going to say here, but now I can't remember... Hm, well, just a fact then: This fic was based off a few song lyrics I came across on a photo. The song itself goes by the same name as the fic, so you should be able to find it. You'll find a few similarities in words if you read and listen at the same time. Haha.

**Disclaimer: **Kingdom Hearts is not mine.

**Warnings:** Implied yaoi. Swearing.

* * *

It wasn't until he'd slipped into a fresh pair of pants that Zexion realized just how much he'd missed wearing them. The denim was cold and snug, tightly threaded and just the right shade of blue to look new, but at the same time, well worn; everything a good pair should be. He piled three pairs into the cheap plastic basket he had cradled in the crook of his arm and made his way to one of the dressing rooms, where he now stood before one of the shoddy old mirrors, analyzing himself. Turning from side to side, frowning at the girlish daintiness of his hips, Zexion decided that, no matter how hard he tried, he'd always be a frightfully skinny little thing. He sighed, undoing the button on the Levi's he'd been modeling, and pulled them off, chucking them into his 'To Keep' pile. The next pair was slightly too big, and terribly baggy, but he decided to keep them anyway, deciding that, honestly, he didn't care. Outside the tiny room, Lexaeus was leaning against the flimsy plastic door, eying anyone that came too close for comfort. Or, well, just anyone who looked suspicious. It was a habit that came with the job, and he couldn't help himself. Zexion let out a grunt as he tried on another pair, one that sounded like they were an effort to get on.

"Say," Lexaeus said, rapping the back of his knuckles on the door, "Why is that you have three boxes full of books, but no clothes to wear? Professional nudism your career choice? Or are you just a bit more conservative than the normal person should be?"

"Neither." Zexion growled, shoving the man out of the way as he opened the door. Three pairs of jeans were slung over his arm, the basket in his other hand. He'd reacquainted himself with the tracking device on his ankle when he'd had to bend over and put his converse back on, and sight of it alone had put him in a considerably bad mood. "I live off pocket lint and whatever I can scrape out of the back of Demyx' couch." Or, he had, at least. "It's hard to find a job when you're someone like me."

At that, Lexaeus stopped asking questions, choosing instead to follow Zexion in plaintive quietness. He didn't feel that, at this point, it was okay for him to pry any further. He wanted to gain Zexion's trust, after all, not force it. They filed down the aisles of the small store to rifle through a small shirt display. Zexion wasn't picky when it came to shirts, seeing as how he always wore a coat over whatever he had on. So instead of sifting through every individual hanger, he reached for any solid color that caught his eye: Black, blue, red, some greens, and slipped them into the basket as well. As he sidled through another pair of aisles though, he couldn't help but snatch up a long-sleeved shirt embellished with a pair of eagles. He could be a little different for once.

After that, he decided that, for the time being, he was set. As long as laundry was done somewhat frequently, a couple pairs of pants and a few shirts would do him well. It also didn't help that Lexaeus had confiscated his wallet, and deemed himself the one who would be paying. Zexion didn't want to owe him, nor did he feel inclined to simply ignore it, either. Knowing that he was living off another mans money was going to nag at constantly. Not that the situation with Demyx had been all that different, but at least then they had been working together.

As they made his way over to the register, the store bell rang and a couple teenagers ambled in, laughing and relaxed and ignorant to the world. Zexion glared at them, furious that he was stuck under the wing of a cop of all things while they chuckled and threw shoes at one another over at the footwear department.

It wasn't until he realized that his anger stemmed from jealousy that he turned away from them, simply glad that he didn't recognize their faces.

Lexaeus gave him an odd look as he took the clothes from his arms and slid them over the counter into the waiting hands of the clerk. She smiled prettily and peeked up at him from beneath her lashes, hazel eyes sparkling, obviously trying to catch and hold his attention while he rifled through the loose bills in his wallet.

"Will this be all for you?" She asked him politely, batting her eyelashes and biting her lip cutely. Lexaeus promptly shoved a few twenties towards her, turning his attention completely away to ask Zexion if he would be okay with them going to the local Italian place for lunch. Humphing, she took the money and slipped it into the register, bagging their purchase and handing him both the change and the plastic with one hand.

"Thank you." He said kindly, giving her a small smile. And, regardless of the fact that her pride as a woman had been slightly damaged, she couldn't help but stare in earnest as he walked away.

xXxXx

When they finally got back home, Zexion retreated immediately to the room Lexaeus had designated as his own, shopping bags in hand and belly full. He threw them down on the bed and sighed, turning and sitting on the sheets. The sound of silence was permeable, the light green walls pushing in on him. Zexion cradled his skull in his hand and slumped, carding his fingers through his lilac hair.

The device on his leg was a burden, a weight that, with every second he stayed still, seemed to grow. With the constant reminder, he couldn't help but feel trapped, like a fish in a bowl. There seemed, at this point, no hope for him. That this place would crush him day after day until, like a fish, there was nothing left to do but dispose of him.

Or, at the very least, kick him right back out onto the street.

Demyx surely, by then, wouldn't have forgiven him after all. It would be too much to change, and would require too much effort. He just wanted things to be easy for once. Anxiety rising, he stood and began to pace, trying to bite back the whine that wanted to slip out his throat.

He wanted to pretend that things had never been this hard. That he'd never stolen anything. That Demyx was still the one who would cradle him at night and press tender butterfly kisses to his eyelids, cheeks, the edge of his lips...

Zexion wanted to pretend that, on the way out of the store, he hadn't pick-pocketed one of the teens he'd been glaring at while Lexaeus checked them out.

Sure, it had only produced a few bills, but when he'd gotten out to the parking lot and found them clenched in his hand, unaware of how they'd come to be there, he couldn't help but berate himself, hating the very fiber of his being.

Lexaeus was blissfully unaware, his attention focused more so on the keys in his hand as he tried to find the correct one to his cruiser.

A knock on the door was all the warning he got before Lexaeus himself barged in, two heavy cardboard boxes balanced precariously in his arms. "I had to get your books out of my car, just in case I get a call sometime tonight. Wouldn't want someone messing with them when I take them in."

"Just, ah, sit them anywhere." It wasn't his house at all, he couldn't impress authority over this man.

Lexaeus did so, setting them down extra carefully near the bed where, Zexion noticed, he could reach them if he so wanted to. He seemed like he was about to say something after that, but the high-pitched keening cry of the phone interrupted him, "I'll get the rest in just a moment, hold on."

xXxXx

"Lexaeus speaking.

"_Oi! Asshole! What was with you today? Thanks to what you said, Sora refuses to talk to me now."_

A sigh, then, "I'm just saving the both of you a lot of pain, alright? You know how you are. We all know how you are. And what happened to Larxene?"

The line stayed silent, he could hear the tapping of nervous fingers on what he presumed was a counter. Finally, after a heavy exhalation, _"A falling out. She caught on to my more... risque desires. You know, contrary to popular belief, equal loving doesn't really appeal to everyone."_

Oh, but did he know. Lexaeus sighed, nursed his temple and said, gently, "I'm sorry, Axel. But really, that kid didn't even look like your type. Too..." He trailed off, trying to insinuate in his tone that the boy was too sweet, too innocent. And Axel was anything but. "Look, where are you?"

"_Reno's place. And he's used to this by now, so you don't have to offer me a place to sleep if that's what you're building up to."_

"You'll come over for breakfast though, right? Just as always?"

"_Just as always."_

"Alright, good night, Axel."

"_Night, Lex. Oh, and tell the new roomie that I'm sorry. I can only imagine how many kinds of awkward this afternoon was for him."_

Holding back a chuckle, he replied, "Will do. See you tomorrow."

With the dial tone buzzing in his ear, he set the phone back down on the cradle and went back out to the car, the issues of late pressing on his mind. He had a Kleptomaniac living in his home, a Pyromaniac that needed almost constant supervision, and himself, a man who, until recently, had been living with no company other than a feline for the last three years.

Outside, the air was cold and crisp, stinging his eyes as the wind assailed him. He ignored it as he sauntered down the sidewalk and popped the car handle, reaching inside to grab what was left of Zexion's things. He was worried about the fact that there was so little there, but the boy was a student, so it shouldn't have surprised him. Yet, at the same time it did. Demyx had a house of his own, but Zexion didn't even had a weeks worth of clothes? What had happened to his _own_ home? His parents? His family? Zexion hadn't just been born _alone_.

Somewhere out in the distance, a coyote howled, yipping three staccato notes immediately afterward. Lexaeus hurried back to the safety of his home, ashamed that, for the briefest of seconds, it was because he feared leaving Zexion alone.

xXxXx

Zexion had already tucked himself into bed by the time Lexaeus had returned. When he poked his head through the door, the light was still on, the ceiling fan set on low, and the small television was advertising an ad for a video game about light and darkness and some sort of creature named the heartless. Aqua eyes stared back at him as he smiled sheepishly, letting himself into the room. The boxes in his arms joined the others, creating a small little haven, familiar and loved, to the lilac-haired boy. With that done and Zexion finally ready to begin living somewhat comfortably in his home, Lexaeus sat himself down on the bed, the mattress dipping somewhat under his weight.

"That was Axel on the phone, said he'd be here in the morning. We usually eat breakfast together before work." Feeling suddenly awkward when the boy in the bed scooted up and away from him, he continued on, feigning guilelessness. " He wanted me to tell you that he was sorry for the spectacle."

Zexion shook his head, smiling in amusement, "Trust me, I have seen far worse. It was nothing to be sorry over. At the very least, it was a very... unique... way of breaking the ice."

"Indeed. Such is his specialty." They both took a moment to laugh at that, the sound of the television a dull murmur in the background.

"I would like to sleep now. If that is alright with you?" Something in his eyes told Lexaeus that he really didn't care whether or not he told him he could sleep.

"Feel free. I'll wake you up in the morning. And, as for the tracker, you can take that off. I think you behaved quite well today. Save for that incident with the pick-pocketing."

Zexion blushed, turning his head away to hide his eyes with the loose sheaf of hair he refused to brush back. So... he _had_ seen. The incriminating bills themselves were still tucked messily into his pocket, burning just as the Lexicon had against his skin. But, instead of registering it, he said, "Don't speak to me like I'm some pet or child. I did not behave well, I behave as any human my age should, or would."

Lexaeus raised an eyebrow at him, smirking, but said nothing. Slowly, he stood and stretched, reaching for the overhead light and switching it off. "Good night, Zexion. Pleasant dreams."

"To you as well. If you so wish it."

In the same breath that towering giant left his room, Zexion all but tore the tracker from his ankle.

xXxXx

That night, he found it nearly impossible to sleep, no matter how tired he became. His eyelids were heavy, his heart beating passively behind the arch of his ribs, his body cool and comfortable in his soft new bed. But still, something seemed off about this large house and its inhabitants. Lexaeus was a kind man, sure. But why was he leading such a lonely life? Breakfast with a co-worker? One that wasn't even female?

There was only logical reason he could find to that, and it made his heart twist painfully. The last thing he wanted on his mind was the matters of his containers sexuality.

Yet, even as he tried not to think about it, he couldn't help but feel uneasy. What if, despite the obvious differences between then, ones that ultimately made them umcompatible, Lexaeus soon began to see him differently? What if a certain point came and he couldn't defend himself?

Zexion wanted to ruin, to flee, to save himself. The tracker was somewhere in the floor, tossed carelessly away, and if he escaped it would not hinder him. Lexaeus had no way of finding him, either. He could make due, find a new home, some new friends, a home willing to take him in.

Or... or maybe... he could just end it all and live on the streets? In the woods? On a mountain? He nearly laughed at how absurd it all sounded, and promptly rolled over to face the door and the sliver of light creeping under it.

Yes... he could run...

But he'd have to leave all his precious books and belongings behind to do so.

That alone kept him rooted in bed, snug under the covers and the warmth he'd found in them. Sleep, despite all odds, finally came to him. The last thing he thought of was the shadow that passed under the door.

One that, for a moment, paused.

xXxXx

"Well, he certainly is pretty, I'll give him that."

"Oh, get off the bed you fool. If he wakes up and sees you, I can't tell you what his reaction will be."

"Probably bite. He looks like a biter. Or a screamer. Say, mind if I-"

"Axel. Off the damn bed. Now."

"Yes, before I castrate you, preferably."

Zexion, wide awake, glared viciously as he sat up. Axel had a very cat-like expression on his face, one not too dissimilar to that of a predators. It made him uneasy, and thankful when he realized that Lexaeus had a hand around the mans collar, pulling him away.

"Sorry about that, Zexion. I took my eye off him for all of two seconds and he slipped away."

"Perhaps he's the one that should be wearing the tracker?"

Axel batted the hand on his shirt away, straightening it lazily as he pouted. "Hey, hey, hey now! I'm cool, no worries. I just wanted to see what you looked like, is all. Didn't have much of a chance yesterday." His tone conveyed grief, but the look in his eyes was one of finality. Obviously the man didn't hold much value in people for very long, which made Zexion wonder how such a person could get along with the seemingly kind Lexaeus.

"I made breakfast." Said man proclaimed. "Eggs, bacon and toast. A meal made for kings."

From here he could smell the aforementioned food, saliva pooling under his tongue as his stomach growled in anticipation.

"Axel and I already ate, so help yourself to whatever you'd like. Then we're heading out to the station."

Zexion, halfway out of bed, stopped to stare curiously, "You're still on the job? Even with me around?"

"Not exactly." Axel punched him in the side, a hint of jealousy in his tone as he said, "Lexaeus got a three day leave so he could take care of you for awhile, 'yanno, get you used to the way things are going to be. Lucky bastard."

"I'm sure he'd rather spend it doing something else." Haughtily, he padded out of the room, unaware of the smirk on Axel's face. His mind had a way of slipping off into the gutter, "I'm sure you don't mind taking care of such a cute little fellow, hm? Maybe you'll even become friends... with benefits?"

Even from the kitchen Zexion could hear the thump and the shout of pain that followed.

* * *

_Reviews Are Love!~_


	6. Axel

Oh hey, an AN's chapter! No one ever wants to see one of these, but in this particular case, no, this is not me saying the story will be forever discontinued. I'm in the process of editing it, and man, does it need editing! But when that's done I'll be uploading NEW chapters and the story can continue as planned.

Hopefully.

By the way, if anyone is interested in being my BETA, that'd be cool. I do all the editing on my own, but you know, there are always things to be improved and even _I_ miss things. So yeah, if you'd like to help with that let me know!

(Just as an extra note here, editing a chapter takes about, say, a day to two days. So maybe by the end of next week I'll be getting on with the new content? Just hang around and see, alright? Alright.)

Oh, and, I don't even think AN exclusive chapters are allowed, so here's a bit of the beginning of chapter six. Unedited of course, and almost a year old... yikes.

* * *

Over a breakfast of toast and eggs, Zexion was witness to the enigma that was _Axel_.

For one, the man could talk for ages, never tiring, never breathless, about absolutely _nothing_. From rain to shoes to a funny commercial he'd seen on the television, his information was boundless and, well, unimportant, but still interesting. Yet, when it came time for him to listen, his stare became so intent that it almost made Zexion uncomfortable to add his two cents. Those acidic green eyes? Entirely capable of rendering a person completely hypnotized. The predatory smirk on his face? Certainly made you feel like a creature under glass to admire.

Then there was the obvious: Axel was obviously a man built strongly upon two things, sex and fire.

Although, Zexion thought, the two weren't exactly different. Even less so to someone like Axel. The red head hadn't even noticed he'd been toying with the catch on a lighter until he caught Zexion staring, and then his ever present smirk perked up even further.

"Do you like fire, Zexion?"

"Didn't your mother ever tell you not to play with fire?"

"Ha!" Axel leaned back in his chair and glanced idly out the double doors. "Like I haven't heard _that_ line a dozen times. _This week_." Leaning forward once more, he balanced his chin on his hands and fixed Zexion with his alluring stare. "Fire is the origin of all things. It's life. And I love it." He let out a small chuckle and added, "But I admit that, yes, good old mom told me not to play with it. Because you can't expect not to get burned." His fingers idled over the tiny marks beneath his eyes, black and dead compared to the rest of his pale skin.

Zexion would have made a noise of sympathy for the man, but he knew marks so small and precise could not be an accident. They were created with a purpose. Be it against his will or not.

Before he could say anything on the subject, Axel's eyes widened comically and, suddenly, his arms were pinwheeling as he toppled backwards, chair and all.

TBC


End file.
